


Wanting to Feel

by Star_dancer54



Series: Dear god old stuff. Like, seriously old. [33]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Draco Malfoy in the Muggle World, Draco hates the Muggle World, Future Mpreg, Harry Potter is a bad influence, Harry isn't too fond of the Magical World either, Hedwig Lives, Hermione Granger Being a Know-It-All, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, Okay so I have a weakness for making characters sing my favorite songs, Songfic, Written Pre-Deathly Hallows, drugs aren't a good idea while you're pregnant Harry, lots of swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-09-20
Updated: 2005-11-09
Packaged: 2019-02-14 09:58:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13005297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Star_dancer54/pseuds/Star_dancer54
Summary: Live your life in a crawlspace...





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Song used this time: Feel, by Matchbox 20

Draco Malfoy, the last of the long line of Malfoys, Blacks, and Ravenclaws alive, sat in the corner of a dark Muggle bar and frowned faintly. He eyed the stage at the back of the room and sipped his drink. He hadn't bothered to find out the name of the drink, just made it clear that he wanted something alcoholic. The band was apparently setting up for a number; he was early. He wasn't happy to be there to begin with. If it weren't for that-

"Damned Muggle bint," he muttered to himself, absentmindedly rubbing at the stone under his shirt and in his chest.

"Thinking of me again, Malfoy?" asked the bint herself as she settled into the seat across from him. Draco studied the woman in the dim light and had to admit that Granger had turned out pretty well in the looks department. With sparkling brown eyes and glossy brown hair that had been curled expertly, Miss Granger could have her pick of any man, or woman, for that matter. Add that to the vivid green dress and she could stop a charging bull with a look. Draco shrugged at the question. Granger laughed. "Poor Malfoy, having to beg help from a Mudblood, of all people. And a Gryffindor, at that." Her eyes turned serious, and she leaned towards him confidentially. "And you wonder why I told you to meet me here?" She apparently hadn't spoken with Potter, then; he'd been here last night to check it out.

Draco sneered. "A power trip, Granger. Simple as that. You knew I hated all things Muggle, especially considering what the Ministry cursed me with." Granger snorted in an unladylike explosion of noise. Draco’s magic started to stir at the slight, but as usual, the damned rock in his chest stopped it.

"Hardly. Just thought you'd like to see the entertainment. After they're finished, we'll talk." Granger smiled, her white teeth (Draco remembered vaguely that her parents were dentists) gleaming between ruby lips. Draco shrugged again, turning towards the stage again. It was black this time; no one was visible, but that didn't mean that no one was there. "Oh, look; they're about to start," Granger said, looking towards the stage as well. She slipped away from the table to her own seat, closer to the stage.

And she was right. A sharp twang from a guitar and a short intro was the only warning. Then there was a flash of light, and the stage was illuminated. Harry Potter stood on the stage, his gold-rimmed glasses flashing in the brilliance. He was wearing a similar outfit as the night before, but with a black satin shirt this time. Only three buttons at the middle held the shirt closed, and a silver chain around his neck seemed even brighter than Potter’s glasses had last night. Lacking this night was the guitar. He held the microphone in one hand loosely, then lifted it up to his face after the short intro. He seemed... different, somehow. More feral, wild. Dangerous.

"What you want  
What you got  
Live your life in a crawlspace"

He gave Draco a look. Oh, yes; this was a totally different Potter tonight. A wicked smile leapt to the young man's lips, and Draco frowned in response. Something was going to happen, and he didn't think it would benefit himself. In fact, it would more than likely do the opposite. He just hoped that he could get something useful from the damned Gryffindors as repayment.

"I help you out  
But you don't  
Want a chance at a better life"

Potter jerked at the words, his smile turning dark and promising. Draco gave him the blankest eyes he could manage. It didn't faze the man in the slightest. Hell, Draco thought to himself, it’s not like I haven’t had him before; I might as well enjoy the show. He eyed Potter up and down lazily.

"You said you never took a ride  
And now you wanna play"

Potter licked his lips and leapt down the stage steps, passing Granger at her table. Draco watched the way the black-haired man moved, gliding as though through water. There was a definite stalk in the way he moved.

"Well, it's a big big city  
Let me show you around  
Sometime"

Potter stopped in front of Draco's table and placed his empty hand on the table. Draco eyed him, wary. What was he up to?

"Oh, sometime"

Potter smirked and spun around. He swiveled his hips in a way that had to be illegal, and stalked back towards the stage. He hopped onto the stage and sat with a hand on his lap.

"And now  
You crossed that line  
You can't come back  
Tell me, how does it feel now?"

Potter leapt down from his perch and slithered (yes, slithered) over to Granger's table. Draco thought only Slytherins were allowed to do that. He smirked and sat on the edge, glancing down at her. She passed him a note, and he glanced at Draco.

"It's too late  
Too much to forget about  
Can't stop now  
How does it feel now?"

Potter walked back over to Draco's table and leaned closer to Draco's face.

"I'm only askin'  
Because I wanna know"

Potter licked his lips again. Draco felt his blood rushing from parts of his body to pool in his lap. He carefully picked up his drink and sipped. When he had his fill, he licked his lips. His eyes stayed glued to the black-haired man's face long enough to see the telltale darkening of those eyes.

"How you wanna feel"

Potter recovered his composure and stepped away, flashing the crowd a wicked smile. He ran a hand down his chest and smirked at Draco. That pale, perfect chest beckoned to Draco, wishing for him to cover it in bite marks and scratches as he had years ago. Draco manfully repressed the urge to dig his nails into the stomach that was barely visible under black material.

"Well, I'm a wreck"

Potter made a sharp gesture with his free hand and sneered, truly sneered at Draco.

"I'm a mess"

He cocked his head to the side. The silver necklace glinted. Draco's pulse jumped.

"I'm a spot on the pavement"

Potter shrank to the floor, kneeling in front of the table. Draco resisted the /need/ to look under the table, to find out where the Golden Boy was. He could almost /feel/ Potter's magic signature sliding over his legs and up into his lap. It was enough to make the stone throb again and drain Potter’s magic again.

Potter suddenly stood up and glared at Draco. Draco shrugged. It wasn’t his fault that Potter insisted on oozing all over the place, so it was his own fault that he didn’t learn from last night.

"I'm a number on your wall  
I make your soul tired"

He stalked back to the stage, ignoring the hands that reached from him from the audience. Apparently, Draco wasn't the only one to feel Potter's magic.

"And I don't think I like this game  
No more  
It goes around and round and round"

Potter swiveled his hips to the words and leapt to the stage, leaning on the guitarist.

"You take it one more time  
Yeah, one more time"

During the chorus Potter returned to the center of the stage, placing the microphone back into the holder. His eyes flashed and danced as he sang.

"And now  
You crossed that line  
You can't come back  
Tell me, how does it feel now?  
It's too late  
Too much to forget about  
Can't stop now  
How does it feel now?"

Potter made another sharp gesture, then put both hands on the microphone.

"I'm only asking  
Because I wanna know  
How you wanna feel?

How ya wanna feel"

Potter removed the mic and stepped off the stage again. He made his way slowly (painfully) back towards Draco's table, stopping at other tables, touching other people.

"And now  
You crossed that line  
You can't come back  
Tell me, how does it feel now?  
It's too late  
Too much to forget about  
Can't stop now  
How does it feel now?"

He passed Granger's table and smiled faintly down at her.

"I'm only asking  
Because I wanna know  
How you wanna feel"

He leveled a look back at Draco.

"How you wanna feel"

Then, he was just /there/ right in front of Draco, leaning close to his face and purring into his ear the last bar.

"How you wanna feel?"

As the guitarist finished, Potter slid into the empty seat across from the blonde man. He handed the mic to a waiter, and leveled a look at Draco. His eyes shone with a sadistic glint.

[On to Part Two...](http://www.livejournal.com/users/star_dancer54/17150.html)


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Care to gloat, Potter?"

"Imagine that." Draco's eyes were blank. 

"Care to gloat, Potter?"

Potter's eyes flattened. "Don't care enough to, Malfoy." His lips turned up in a parody of a smile as he continued. "I just find it rather amusing that you’ve chosen to come here, of all places, for help."

Draco growled to himself. "Yes, well, I’ve lost most of my contacts. And the ones I still have are unable to help, what with the majority being in Azkaban."

"Malfoy, you were kicked out for a damned good reason. You ran after Snape killed Dumbledore – with him. You bolted off with a murderer, and stayed with him all through the Horcrux debacle. How you managed to get off without a Dementor’s kiss I have no idea." Draco glanced up to see Granger leaning on Potter's chair. 

"For one thing, you know that I didn’t have much of a choice, as you already seem to know what happened that night, though I’m unsure as to how." Granger just smiled to herself at his words, running slim fingers through Potter's already-messy hair. "Another thing, as a general rule, I trusted Severus, considerably more than the people at Hogwarts that were left behind. It was the only reasonable choice left to me – be accused of killing Dumbledore, or ‘bolt,’ as you put it. As for that other bit, I have very good lawyers."

Potter sneered at the lawyer part but didn't say anything.

"Are you going to help me or not? I don't have all night. I am certain there's a place around here that serves better drinks." Draco eyed the concoction he had been drinking with disgust and set it on the table.

Potter's eyes were the most amazing shade of green when he was getting annoyed. It looked like old mud that was starting to have things growing in it. It made Draco wonder what the inside of Potter's eyes looked like. Were they rotten and molding, like old cheese? Or was it from all that dirty blood running through his veins that made them that color? Sometimes, when a corpse rotted, its eyes would start to shrivel. Other times, they would just bust if touched lightly with the tip of a wand. Draco wondered which was the case with Potter's eyes.

"-have been.... Malfoy, pay attention." Granger had been talking while Draco was thinking. He blinked and looked away from Potter's eyes.

"Hm? I thought I heard a strange gurgling sound coming from your vicinity. Did you say something?" Draco smiled charmingly. Granger glared at him.

"Petty, Malfoy," Potter said. Draco ignored him and studied his nails. Hmm… almost time for another manicure…

Granger growled. "As I was saying," she bit out, "Ron, Padma and Parvati have been looking for loopholes to get back into the Wizarding World. There is only one that they’ve been able to find." Here she hesitated.

Draco looked at her expectantly. "Well?"

Granger sat down next to Potter and sighed. "The only way you would be allowed in is if you somehow ended up with a child. Naturally, the Wizarding World would welcome another magical kid, since after the Wars there weren't many people left that are capable of having children. And if you had a child, even the Ministry acknowledges the fact that you can't raise a magical child in the Muggle world successfully without help from either the Wizarding World or prior experience."

Draco raised an eyebrow. "Are you saying that if I get some woman knocked up, I'd be allowed back?"

Granger smiled wryly. "Not that simple. For one thing, there’s the whole Muggle problem.” 

Draco raised his eyebrow. “Do be more specific. Which Muggle problem are you referring to?”

Granger rested her elbow on Potter's shoulder and propped her head on her palm. "There is a reason your family is pureblooded."

"Of course: we didn't want to sully our blood with common filth."

Potter threw back his head and laughed bitterly. "Wrong." He lowered his head to look Draco in the eye. "Didn’t you ever read about magical inheritance? Purebloods have too much magic to successfully breed with Muggles." As if reading from a textbook, he stated, "Only when a Pure line becomes so weak as to be unable to produce heirs with another Pure line will it be able to breed with non-magical folk."

Draco hated when people made him feel stupid. But he supposed that that bit of information was irrelevant to dearly dead Lucius, since there was never even a mention of shagging anything less than a Pureblood.

Granger coughed. "When a totally Pureblooded person tries to copulate with a Muggle, it always ends badly. When the Pureblood orgasms, a great amount of magical energy is released. Most Muggles can't handle the pressure that builds up from the magic, and they are destroyed. Rather messily."

"But how does that explain the number of Halfblood and Muggleborn witches and wizards?" Draco especially hated it when he had to show his own lack of knowledge by asking questions.

Granger smiled faintly. "Those are diluted, weaker bloodlines from purebloods. As for Harry," here, she patted Potter on the head like a dog she was fond of, "his mother was a witch, and a powerful one, at that. She could have been the beginning of a very powerful bloodline if she had lived longer, especially since the Potters were also Pureblooded with more magical talent than you could shake a broom at. Merope Gaunt, Voldemort's mother, was from a drained line of Purebloods- Salazar Slytherin used up too much of the family power too early on, so she was able to fuck a Muggle and bear a son. Voldemort virtually drained the rest of the magical pool for himself, so his children, if he had ever managed to have any, would probably be Squibs, or close to one. That's also why there are more Squibs now than there were in the 1800s."

Potter's mouth turned up in a wry smile. "And for your information, Malfoy, you great great grand uncle was in love with a Muggle woman. When they finally did the deed, she was killed, and he went crazy." The smile turned up a bit more. "I understand he sliced himself up in a hysterical fit after that little incident."

Draco went still at the mention of his Uncle Alaric. The family had wiped him from the history books after that incident, but he had found an old diary of his ancestor. He hadn't thought anyone knew about that any more. He turned defensive, and his magic attempted to stir again. Which brought to mind another thing to consider. “What about the thing on my chest? Wouldn’t that drain the magic before it would overload?”

Granger looked thoughtful for a moment. “Well, the thing is, I think that the stone only works with small blasts, since one would think that you’d only use an uncontrolled burst of magic if you were in danger… I guess that’s just a risk. It is rather odd that they’ve put that stone in a Pureblood, though…”

Draco shrugged, ignoring the ache in his bones. “Why don’t we just say that hypothetically, the damned thing wouldn’t stop the power blast. What else would be a problem?”

“Well, another problem is that not any of the remaining women old enough to bear children are Purebloods. Or, if they are, they are incapable of having children."

Draco frowned. "Parkinson-"

"- was cursed by some overzealous lunatic while at St. Mungo's. Her ovaries are totally gone with no chance of recovery."

“Chang- no, nevermind. I don’t think I’d fuck her if my life depended on it.” 

"Plus, Malfoy, I thought you were gay," Potter commented.

"No, bi..." Draco said absentmindedly. He then gave Potter a look. "Why, interested in a repeat?" he asked, sneering.

Potter snorted. “You wish.”

Draco looked affronted. “Trust me, Potter. I have better wishes than shagging you, considering I’ve already had you.” He smirked wickedly, and Potter glared at him for bringing it up. “I’d hate for you to end up blown up when you might carry my ticket back to the Wizarding world inside you.”

“Yes, that’s always another possibility…” Granger muttered to herself.

“WHAT?” 

Granger looked up from some notes and frowned. She blinked and reviewed the conversation in her head. “Bloody hell, are you both mad? I do have sense. I was simply referring to the fact that Malfoy could have a male pregnancy, if we could get a donor.” She chewed on a thumbnail. “Hmm… mix Muggle technology with Magical potions… perhaps artificial insemination into the ‘mother’ with a potion cocktail to make sure there isn’t a miscarriage. I wonder if Poppy…” she continued muttering to herself.

Draco blinked. “Tech-whatsit? Artificial what?”

Potter patted Granger’s hand. “She means taking an egg from a donor, then forcing a sperm cell into it, creating an embryo. That would be put in you, more than likely. Or, you could rely on magic, rather than the Muggle way. It would probably be easier for you.” Granger blinked at Potter, then turned to Draco, nodding.

“What he said.”

Draco’s nose was wrinkled. “No way in all the hells am I doing that. It’d ruin my boyish figure and wreck havoc on my lascivious purposes. Can’t I get someone else to carry it?”

Granger snickered to herself. “Possibly. But who would you trust enough for this?” Draco frowned. As much as he hated to admit it, Granger was right about that. He didn’t trust anyone anymore.

“Good question,” Potter murmured. He sat back, crossed his arms and studied Draco. “Maybe Zabini might help. Wasn’t he one of your lovers?”

Draco chuckled. “What, keeping a record of who I’ve slept with?”

Potter snorted. Granger answered for him. “I know a person who has collected pictures of you with each of your conquests, Malfoy. Well, almost all of them.”

Draco had the feeling that the only one that didn’t have his photos taken, considering the lack of publicity, was Potter himself. That meant it had to be… He sat forward abruptly, his eyes narrowing. “Who was it? Was it one of the Weasleys? Or maybe that Finnegan slut. Wouldn’t put it past him to do something that trashy.”

Potter smiled faintly. “Not any of the Weasleys, or Seamus. It was Colin Creevey, who got it from a Gryffindor Seventh year.” Draco grimaced.

"Figures." He leveled a look in Potter's direction. "Now, why were you studying those illegal pictures, hmm?" He leaned back in his chair. "Always knew you fancied me. There were far too many times that you got into a physical fight with me, not to mention that week or so after Yule break..."

Potter's eyes twitched. "You sick fuck," he growled, "Are you really in that much of a need to get your rocks off? Your pictures were passed around the entire Common Room. The fourth years in particular were fascinated by them - just hitting puberty and all." Granger touched Potter's hand lightly and he relaxed into the chair again. He said nothing about the fancying part, Draco noticed. He was just about to make a comment when Granger spoke again.

"Anyway, we need a carrier to continue with this conversation. I get the impression that a lot of thought will be required before you agree or not. Although it would be much easier if you simply slept with a female." Granger sighed to herself. "I really wish that so many of the witches weren't cursed with that potion near the end. You'd've thought that he'd know how important it was to keep witches – especially Pureblooded, considering his reasoning - alive…” Granger shook her head. “Needless to say, there's only one female left in our year that wasn't effected by that damned poison, and I wouldn't touch you for all the Galleons in the world. There are many other choices, such as adopting a Magical child, though there are so few of them left that the Ministry won't let a known Death Eater raise them, spy or no." She continued muttering to herself, but Draco lost interest in what she was saying. He already knew all of this. There was nothing new, and he was getting frustrated. He was thinking of alternate ways of life when Potter's howl of outrage brought him back.

"HELL no! Not in any way, shape, or form!" Draco wished he could have heard what brought this exclamation out. His mental questions were soon answered.

"Harry, you know it's a good solution to BOTH of your problems. Be reasonable; this will get rid of all of those wretched people following you, relax from your overwork, and allow you to have something you've always wanted; a family."

"Now, that's not fair, 'Mione. You know I've been working hard at finding those bastards, and yes, I might have been a little swamped with work, but that's why I come here! That's the reason behind all those-"

"Those terrible, dangerous drug cocktails you make? And don't you dare think that I don't know about them-"

"And as for the family, I have plenty of time to think-"

"Well, I don't."

Draco was as surprised as the others were that the words came out of his mouth. He blinked, and found himself on the receiving end of two strange looks. He was even more surprised when he continued on, "The more I think about it, the more sense it makes. I'll need an heir anyway, and so will Potter. And, as you said, we probably won't kill eachother if we start fucking again. Of course, that might be debatable, and all other times are 'open season,’ as I believe the Americans say. Your 'bastards,' as you so charmingly put it, won't find you if your magical signature changes like it will during pregnancy, and who would expect you to be shacked up with me, anyway?"

Granger nodded. "Valid points." Potter growled something under his breath and Granger chuckled. "I'll pack for Harry. I don't really trust him not to sneak away given half a chance, so I'll put a locking charm that only I can open on his apartment so he can't come back. Where are you staying?"

"I don't really have a place at the moment."

"Then you'll need to go flat hunting. I know of a few near the Wizarding community, but there's always a higher chance of any enemies either of you has to get at your child. I would advise a flat a bit away from London proper." Granger cocked her head to the side, looking like a very sexy Cocker Spaniel. For a Mudblood. "I'll look into it. Meanwhile, you need to gather any necessities you can think of. You can go shopping for the rest later."

Draco went back to his hotel much later, his mind spinning. Was he mad? What the hell was he thinking, getting involved in such an insane plot? And how was he so sure that Potter wouldn't run off with the child before it was born? Draco's head was throbbing. He felt all the alcohol that had been built into his system start to effect his thinking processes. Draco stripped and tossed his clothing to the floor, falling face-first into the bedcovers.

The next few days would be hell, that much was certain.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning dawned with disgusting brightness, the bloody birds were chirruping with far too much cheer, and the fucking window was being tapped on with an annoying single-minded determination to drive Draco crazy.

The morning dawned with disgusting brightness, the bloody birds were chirruping with far too much cheer, and the fucking window was being tapped on with an annoying single-minded determination to drive Draco crazy. A white owl was perched on his windowsill, trying to break the glass with its very sharp-looking beak. 

Draco growled and threw something nearby at the window, not bothering to even find out what the item was before chucking it. The window broke with a splintering crash, and the snowy owl flew in with ease. It landed on Draco's back, its claws digging into very naked skin. Draco swore sleepily, then yanked the duvet up higher to protect his back. The owl hooted in a loud and obnoxious way, pecking at the back of Draco's head.

"Bugger off, you overgrown feather-duster," Draco muttered, his head pounding. The owl let out an indignant hoot. He clutched at his forehead and tried to burrow in deeper into the bed. The damned bird was starting to make his eardrums swell in preparation to bursting, and something was trickling from his scalp. Draco felt the back of his head. When he brought his hand to his face he wasn't at all surprised to find them stained in crimson. He swore rather violently and flipped onto his back, upsetting the owl and causing it to fly onto the headboard. Draco glared up at the bird and the wretched thing glared right back, its eyes filled with baleful intent. 

"What?" Draco snapped, staggering out of the bed and heading towards the bathroom. The owl followed him, offering its leg. After taking a piss and brushing his teeth to rid himself of the taste of Hippogriff piss, he accepted the letter. The owl sat there, obviously expecting a reward. Draco gave it a piece of bacon from the tray that had just arrived and started to read. The owl flew away. Draco swore again.

It looked like he was going to be spending most of the day with Granger and Potter. How... wonderful... that was going to be. 

Draco ate a little, then took a shower, feeling a bit more alive after most of the alcohol-fuzz had faded away. He walked back into the bedroom without bothering to dry himself off and settled down onto the bed after spreading a towel over where he would sit. He started drying himself with another towel and began thinking, wondering how the hell he had managed to get into such a dreadful situation.

It really boiled down to the choices that others had made, he surmised. He hadn’t had a feasible choice when it came to killing Dumbledore, he’d believed at the time, since it was his family at risk. He still wasn’t entirely certain why he was incapable of killing the man. Maybe he was too innocent? He snorted to himself at that thought. Perhaps not, then. It couldn’t be because he thought that Dumbledore could save him – no one would or could, then. He shook his head at himself and continued preparing for company, though the thought of not finishing dressing, just to see the reaction, was rather tempting. Not that he wanted to shag either ex-Gryffindor, mind. Well, Potter was quite delish up close, and Granger did have a certain thing going for her…

He began getting dressed, and had on everything but his shirt when the expected but unwanted knock came. Pulling on a soft dove-grey sweater, he opened the door. 

Potter looked as if he'd had as rough a morning as Draco had. His eyes were glazed and bloodshot, his hair all over the place, and his face unshaven. Lovely. Just what Draco wanted to see in the morning- a hungover war hero. 

Draco stepped aside and allowed Potter entrance. Potter made a beeline for Draco's near-untouched food and started feasting on some eggs and toast. Draco raised an eyebrow. "No good-morning kiss?" he asked, putting as much sarcasm in as possible at such an unearthly hour. Potter rolled his eyes and continued wolfing down Draco's breakfast.

"'Mione will be here later. She said something about another appointment." Potter took a sip of Draco's tea and grimaced. He looked at the drink in disgust before pouring in an unhealthy amount of sugar and milk. It was Draco's turn to roll his eyes.

"Is she meeting us here or do we start without her?" He didn't bother bitching about his meal. Instead, he said, "And is there a reason you came over without so much as brushing your teeth? I can smell your breath from here." 

"Yes, well, it would be nice if someone hadn't already put up so bleeding many wards around my OWN flat that I can't get in, eh?" Draco snickered. "Yeah, real funny when it happens to you." Potter growled to himself and finished off the rest of the tea, wincing at the taste. He then stood up and headed directly for the bathroom.

Draco tried to keep his tongue in check, and called the kitchens to get rid of the remains of breakfast. He felt quite a bit better after tearing into the man at the desk for allowing Potter to gain entrance in the first place. He considered following Potter and continuing the questioning, but at the thought of seeing Potter naked, he decided against it. It seemed that his cock liked that thought a bit too much. 

Then he remembered that having sex with Potter again wasn’t exactly a bad thing. At least, not at the present time. In fact, it was almost encouraged… hmm… nice thought. 

Draco pulled his mind forcibly from the gutter and was repairing the window when a naked, wet, dripping Potter emerged from the bathroom. Draco blinked. Sweet merciful Salazar, what a sight… 

He had to tear his eyes away. “What the hell are you doing?”

Potter glared at him. “No bloody towels. And my clothes are filthy.”

“Well, where’s your wand? Didn’t the Weasleys teach you cleaning charms?”

“My wand,” Potter growled with a grimace, “is with my darling friend named Hermione. I plan to kill her for it, in the near future.”

Draco raised his eyebrow but said nothing. He merely pointed at the towels drying on the back of a chair. Potter nodded and began drying himself off, still muttering curses at his supposed best friend. Draco thought it was a good thing for Granger that Potter didn’t have his wand, when next they met. Not that he particularly cared or anything. “You never answered my question about where we’re meeting Granger.”

Potter shrugged. “She gave me an address that we’re to be at around noon.” 

Draco settled into one of the seats by the bed. He cocked his head at Potter wonderingly. “Real estate agent?” Potter nodded, rubbing his hair dry. 

Draco eyed the body displayed before him while Potter’s head was covered. Long legs that had a bit more muscle than Draco’s own, with an arse that begged to be bitten… a bit broader in the shoulders and chest than Draco, but not much… Wait, what was that- 

He blinked.

“Potter, is that a nipple ring?” 

One of Potter’s eyes blinked at him from under the towel and messy fringe. “Why, yes it is, Malfoy. I don’t really see how it’s any of your business, however.”

Draco gave him a friendly leer. “You forget. We’re supposed to get very much in each other’s business, remember?”

The visible eye narrowed. “Right. Look, don’t ask questions about my past, and I won’t ask you about yours, okay? I don’t want to talk about it.”

Draco shrugged and motioned towards the wardrobe. “I have no problem with that, Potter. However, if you do want to get dressed, you’re welcome to some of mine, though not my underwear. Circe only knows where your arse has been.”

“I’ll have you know, Malfoy, that I just washed my arse, and I wouldn’t want to wear your nasty underwear anyway.” Potter proceeded to snoop through Draco’s clothing, pulling out a stretchy black turtleneck and pants that were quite loose on Draco, but would probably cling to Potter’s rather spectacular arse in a very satisfying and distracting way. 

This was definitely going to be a long, hard day…

~~~

 

Draco was only too right. After an exhausting trip to a real estate agency, then to four different flats, with Granger and Potter (once she returned his wand, after he swore an oath that he wouldn’t bolt) talking quite loudly about various and sundry, Draco had a throbbing headache. It was most certainly not helped when the pair decided that it was time for a lunch break. 

Oh, no. The headache most definitely was not helped then, what with the discussion.

It didn’t even have the consideration to start out innocently. Granger had looked over her menu and smiled. “So, I was talking to Poppy this morning.”

Both Draco and Potter eyed her warily.

Granger’s smile grew to a grin. “Actually, there’s a male pregnancy potion already in existence. Of course,” she added with a thoughtful frown, “it hasn’t been used for centuries, not since the last severe decrease in the Wizarding population. Which is why it’s starting to become more well known, again.” She propped her chin on her hand. “Since there are fewer witches, the Ministry has started to allow it again, and isn’t really regulating it at all, at least, not now.”

“Which means what, exactly?” Draco asked, frowning at the menu.

“I suggest that you two consider conceiving within the next few months.”

"WHAT?!" Potter howled in outrage. Granger didn't look the slightest bit ashamed. 

"Well, honestly," she huffed, "it shouldn't take too long for the potion to be made, and we need to do this before the Ministry tries to take control over it. We don't have much time."

Draco clutched his forehead. "Well, you heard her, Potter. Looks like we'll be shagging a lot earlier than expected." He fixed the other man with a determined glare. "You want children, right?"

Potter growled, just a bit. "Yesss," he hissed. "I just wasn't expecting this to be so soon. We hardly know eachother anymore. How can I trust that you'd help keep the child safe? As much as it pains me to say it, how can I be sure you'd keep me safe while I’m carrying it, as well?" 

The little pestle that was churning Draco's brains into powder ground particularly hard for a moment. Draco fought the urge to just throttle the damned Gryffindor. "Would it help if I took an unbreakable oath? Or are you just going to take my word of honour?"

Bright green eyes narrowed to slits. "Your 'word of honour' is shit, as well you know." Potter sighed in exasperation. 

"Ignoring that for a moment," Granger interrupted before it could turn into a brawl, "the potions are actually ridiculously easy to brew, if you can find the ingredients. You'd need to take the one that prepares your body for conception, then the one that secures the birth to begin with. After that, there are more that help create hormones to settle the body for the baby's growth, as well as the mood relaxers that are near-necessity for any pregnant witch or wizard. That prevents most random spurts of magic that would normally occur, and keeps your moods pretty much level."

"Lovely," Potter muttered. Draco started to feel sorry for the poor sod.

Draco yawned, covering his mouth politely. He still felt like shit from last night. "So when will he be ready?" 

Granger blinked at him. "Within a week of taking the first potion, then two days after the second one. The first one takes," she checked her notes, "twenty hours, while the second takes only four, but needs to be consumed within nine hours exactly. The first can sit for four days without being used." 

Draco began to not listen quite so hard as Granger continued lecturing Potter about the specifics. He was too busy studying the rather pleasant specimen across the table and trying not to think about ripping his shirt, damn it, off said specimen's back, pinning the man to the table, and having his merry way with him right then and there. 

Damn. And he was so sure that he'd already exorcised that demon, too. 

His cock was inclined to disagree, pointing out that Potter had been quite a fantastic shag. It brought up specific memories, in particular that lovely episode involving his Slytherin tie and one of his bedposts. 

He put his cheek on his fist and let his mind wander a bit further, his other hand slipping below the table to lazily adjust himself. His hand slipped back up quickly to snag the water the waiter had just brought and he took a swift sip. 

Why were his hormones stirring so wildly, as if he were sixteen again? His magic was in a similar bind; the stone in his chest was draining it as quickly as his horniness brought it to the surface. It certainly was not because of Potter. That was impossible. He tried to kill the thought dead. It wasn’t working. In fact, the damned thought began to multiply. 

He fished in his ever-present knapsack and pulled out an opaque phial of headache remover. This wasn’t the strongest he had, but would hopefully work until he had a chance to get to the rest of his stash. He downed it with his water, ignoring the narrow-eyed glare Potter was fixing him with.

“What was that?” came a sharp query. Draco raised an eyebrow.

“Arsenic, of course. I’m trying to put myself out of my misery.” At the two Gryffindors’ glares, he sighed. “Headache remedy. Really, that’s all.” He sent Potter a none-too-friendly look. “Besides, shouldn’t you be more worried about him taking illegal substances?” He jerked his chin at the other man. The headache wasn’t going away.

Granger’s glare turned to Potter. “He has a point,” she said, far too mildly. “And I have every intention of going through your flat and clearing out all of your… paraphernalia.”

“’Mione,” Potter growled, his hands propping his face up by way of his temples, “do you really think I would be so stupid as to do drugs while I am carrying my child?”

“Our child, Potter.”

Potter brushed the comment away, still staring at Granger. “Whatever. I’m not even going to smoke pot, alright?”

Draco stifled the urge to snicker. Potter the pot-head, indeed.

Granger was staring right back. “Can we trust that you won’t? What about your friends that do it?”

Potter sighed. “I’ll tell them that I’m going out of town, or that I’ve decided to quit, or whatever the hell you want me to, okay? Will that get you off my arse?”

Granger beamed at him. “I’m glad that you’re willing, at the least. I just hope for your sake that you stick with it. Hell, if I’d known that all it took was you getting pregnant for you to stop, I’d have suggested it earlier.”

Potter was not impressed. Draco wasn’t either, but he was too bored to study it closely. Just how long had the Gryffindor hero been going and getting fucked up on those drugs?

It didn’t matter, as long as someone could brew up a potion to clean Potter’s system. Draco thoughtfully tugged out his notebook and a self-inking quill. He began making notes to himself for the various potions options for getting Potter clean enough to carry a child. 

Those potions would prove quite useful in the future.


End file.
